


Let go

by MorteMistrata



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: @kaxpha, M/M, healing pod au, just my take on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorteMistrata/pseuds/MorteMistrata
Summary: Lance, gifted the ability to heal others due to a mishap with the healing pod, tries his best to save everyone. When the consequences catch up to him, Keith has some words for him that he doesn't like at all. Not one bit.





	Let go

“There’s nothing more you can do.” Coran says, as he kneels beside the small crumpled form.

The ground is still hot from the heat of the laser, and the air around them is filled with the smell of charred flesh. Lance feels sick, at himself mostly; the smell reminds him of barbecued chicken, reminds him of summer parties and cookouts, and the fact that he’s thinking about something so happy in the midst of something so horrible has him feeling sick to his stomach.

Coran stands and dusts off his pants, which at this point is a useless venture. He starts walking towards the next moaning figure, a few feet away. Lance doesn’t think Coran’ll be able to much for them either; even from here, he can see the stark white of bone showing through their chest.

He looks back at the child that Coran said was too injured to help. Their eyes flutter weakly at him, as if they can tell that Lance is looking at them. He’s supposed to be saving his strength to help the many. He’s only supposed to heal those who have a chance of survival on their own, and yes, he knows that no one would approve, but he’s gonna do it anyways.

He closes the distance between them, and kneels beside the dying child. Their chest is burnt, almost all the way through to the delicate organs underneath. This species has these weird gill like things on their upper chests that are essential to breathing or filtering air or something. If he doesn’t do something right now, this child- and there’s no doubting that this is a child- will die before their life has even really began. His mind flits back to his siblings at home, who are, or at least were when he left, about the same age as this kid is. If it were his brother or sister laying here, he’d want whoever was there to do everything they could to gurantee their survival.

Lance takes in a deep breath and presses his hands against the kid’s chest.

It’s hard to describe how it feels to give some of your own health away to someone else. When Pidge had asked, he’d told her that it felt like a vacuum, sucking energy out of him unlike a day of training never could. When Shiro had asked, he’d told him that it felt good, like the exhaustion that settles in after a long run. Both descriptions had seemed right at the time, but honestly, it was a lot more complicated than that.

“Lance?” Someone calls distantly. A stream of blood begins to drip out of his nose.

He can feel the skin growing over the kid’s gaping chest. Their breathing is getting better, sounding a lot less labored actually. Just a few more minutes until they’re fully healed.

“Lance? Stop! What’re you doing?” A voice calls again. He thinks he recognizes it, but his ears are ringing and he’s not sure if it’s Keith or Shiro.

His heard is starting to hurt, he’s feeling faint, like he hasn’t eaten all day, or no, scratch that all week. His hands don’t waver, but Lance’s arms begin to shake.

The kid, the kid is waking up now, is gonna be fine in just a minute, if he can just hold out. His nose tickles and he wants to wipe it away, but he can’t move his hand away, not yet.

“Let go!” The person says, pulling him away. As soon as Lance’s hands leave their chest, whatever was holding him upright leaves him, and he slumps into the arms of whoever interrupted him.

“Lance?” It’s Keith, Lance recognizes dimly. “Are you okay?”

“Is the kid okay?” He slurs.

Keith hesitates to look away, but does, and when he looks back, there’s tears in his eyes. Or so Lance thinks. His vision is a bit blurry now, but there’s no mistaking the feel of a tear falling onto his face. “He’s fine, Lance. He’s up and walking.”

“Good.” Lance says, content in the knowledge that his healing worked. The exhaustion hits him again, harder this time, and he lets it drag him into sleep. The sound of Keith’s frantic voice echoes in his mind, even after he succumbs to the darkness.

When he wakes up, he’s in his bed, and the familair sound of the castle’s engines are humming in the background. He sits up, and wincez at the lingering ache in his head.

“Quiznack.”

“Language.” Allura scolds from the foot of his bed.

Lance looks around, but there’s no one else in the room. “So you’re on babysitting duty, huh?”

Allura crosses her arms. “You may act like a child, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why-”

“Remember how the druids harvest quintessence for the empire’s use?”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“We stole some, and I had to spend the better part of the week healing you with it.” She stands. “I’m going to go get Keith, but please take note. If you do something so reckless again, I am the one you should be afraid of.”

Lance nods, unsure of what else to do.

Content with the fear evident in his eyes, she nods, and leaves the room. A moment later, Keith sulks in, dark purple bags under his eyes.

“You’re worse than me when it comes to the heroics.”

Lance yawns and leans against the headboard. “Maybe I am. Are you gonna yell at me about it, Mullet?”

Keith shakes his head. “No. I’m going to warn you.”

Lance quirks an eyebrow. Another warning? For what? Why bother? He saved a kid, hurrah, hurrah. He’s fine, so get over it and move on. “Warn me about what?”

“If you ever do something so stupid, so reckless ever again, we’re done.” Keith pauses to let what he said sink in. “I love you, Lance. A lot. And I keep doing this. When you finally kill yourself being the hero, I don’t want to be the one left behind.”

He stands and kisses Lance on the forehead. His lips are dry. He probably hasn’t been using that lipchat that Lance gave him to keep his lips moisturized. Keith smiles gently, sadly and walks to the door. “Hunk will bring you your food soon, okay?” And then he’s gone, and Lance is all alone, left with the consequences of his decisions.

And honestly? He wouldn’t change a thing. The question, he realizes, is can he change anyways, for the sake of his boyfriend? He isn’t so sure.

 

 


End file.
